Keeper of the Secrets Part 2
by Vol lady
Summary: The search for the woman hiring gunman to kill the Barkley brothers continues as Jarrod settles into life in San Francisco and his family adjusts to life without him. Meanwhile more secrets, past and present, affect both the search and Barkley life.
1. Chapter 1

Keeper of the Secrets Part 2

Chapter 1

Autumn, 1879

Jarrod was exhausted when he finally unlocked the door to his place in San Francisco. It was beginning to get dark outside, and since his house faced north, it was already dark inside. He lit a lamp on a table inside the front door, then closed and locked the door.

With a big sigh, he put his hat on the table, then came in and lit three more lamps in the living room. His home looked fine, if a little dusty. He'd talk to his part-time housekeeper – who was only here when he was - about becoming full time. He wandered to the small bar in the corner and poured himself a scotch before he plopped down into the armchair next to the fireplace. He thought about building a fire and then decided not to. It wasn't that cold in here. God, he was tired but he was still feeling more like he wanted to go out and get some dinner than stay in – and he'd have to because there wasn't any food in the house anyway.

A knock at the door surprised him. He got up and went to it, and opened it.

A tall, thin man stood there. "Mr. Barkley," he said.

Jarrod knew him. His contact with Pinkerton. He opened the door wider and said, "Come on in, Davis."

"I was surprised to hear you were moving in here for good," Davis said.

Jarrod ushered the man into his living room and asked him to sit down. "I think it was inevitable at some point. Now is as good a time as any. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," the man said, sitting down on the sofa.

Jarrod planted himself back into the armchair next to the fireplace. "I take it from the look on your face that you haven't come up with anything more."

The man shook his head. "We've dug into every newspaper we can think of, every bank record we could find. Everything leads to dead ends, both in the past and in the present. Agatha Cromwell seems to have existed from October of 1872 to 1877. From June 1873 to June 1876 she was married to Alexander Carpenter. He died and she reverted to Cromwell until 1877. Then Agatha Cromwell disappeared, together with all her assets. We haven't been able to track down a name change, a marriage, a bank record trail or anything at all to explain where she went."

Jarrod nodded, mostly to himself. Agatha Cromwell appeared long enough to marry Alexander Carpenter and then disappeared. She could have been married to someone else before Carpenter, but clearly, she changed her name and everything about her after Melanie Palmer was arrested. "Did you ever uncover a photo of her?" Jarrod asked.

Davis shook his head. "Not even a wedding photo from a society page."

"How about her husband, Carpenter? Have you traced any of his family?"

"Apparently none left. He was married before Agatha, but widowed. One son who died young. Two brothers, unmarried, died in the war. No sisters, no extended family."

Jarrod felt his neck crawl. "How did he die?"

His visitor caught on to what he was thinking. "He drowned. Supposedly fell off a pier down off the waterfront. No witnesses, just a body that floated up."

"Inquest?"

"It was deemed an accident. I talked to the officer who investigated. He seemed to be suspicious but didn't have any evidence to change the finding."

"But he thought Agatha."

"He thought suicide, maybe had something to do with Agatha, maybe not."

Jarrod scratched the late day growth of beard that was itching the underside of his chin. "So, we have a potential black widow who likes to hire contract killers. What a lovely lady."

"She may have left San Francisco," Davis said.

"But you haven't uncovered any train or boat tickets."

"Not even a donkey rental."

Jarrod chuckled in spite of himself. "No connection to the Barkley family for her or her husband?"

"None we could find. What do you want us to do, Mr. Barkley? We've really run out of avenues to explore."

Jarrod thought, and then said, "Cut back, but keep your ears open, just in case. If I get wind of anything or if anybody comes after me or my family, I'll be in touch again."

Davis nodded and got up. "I'm sorry we couldn't come up with anything more for you. The lady is slick."

"The lady's no lady," Jarrod said as he stood, saw Davis to the front door, and shook his hand good-bye.

The man left and Jarrod closed the door behind him. For a few moments he wondered what to do next. He couldn't go hunting the woman himself – she'd know him, and it would be far too easy for her to have him killed if she knew he was snooping into her whereabouts.

Jarrod wandered back to his chair and his scotch, thinking. He couldn't just let this slide. All signs were that Agatha Cromwell, whoever she was, wouldn't be put off by her failures thus far to kill a Barkley brother. She'd just hire someone else to go after one of them, or his mother or sister.

Jarrod came to an unhappy conclusion. He was going to have to call in a favor from someone who owed him a big one, someone new to this investigation, someone who could get into records and other information that even Pinkerton had trouble getting into.

He finished his scotch, went to the telegraph office and fired off a wire, then went to his club for dinner and one more scotch to help him have a better night's sleep than he thought he might have. Tomorrow was going to bring all his other San Francisco work back to the forefront, and it was going to bring, just maybe, word from the man who owed him that big favor.

He sighed again, this time at how complicated his life had become, and how every one of these complications were secrets he had to keep from his family. He felt incredibly alone – he was alone, but that was his choice. He reminded himself again that it was a wise choice, at least for now.

"Will there be anything else, Mr. Barkley?"

Jarrod looked up at the waiter, then around at the other men eating and drinking at his club. He didn't know any of them. "No, I guess not, Michael," he said.

The waiter left his tab, and Jarrod signed it.

"Say, Michael," Jarrod said as he gave the bill back.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm going to be around a lot more. I've moved to San Francisco permanently."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Barkley. We always enjoy having you here."

Jarrod smiled. "Thanks. Could you do me one big favor?"

"I will certainly try."

"That supply of scotch from Scotland you keep for me – can you see they triple it? I have a feeling I'm going to be needing it."

Michael smiled. "We certainly will, Mr. Barkley."

"And will you make sure that when I'm here, I don't overdo it? Make sure everybody cuts me off at two or three, depending on how I look. I don't ever want to go staggering out the front door and making a spectacle of myself."

"We'll take care of you, Mr. Barkley."

Jarrod got up and slapped the man cordially on the left arm. "You're a lifesaver, Michael. Have a good evening."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jarrod spent the next morning doing some unpacking and organizing at his home. The place had never really seemed like a home – more like a glorified hotel room – because it held so few of the things that really were him. Books he loved, the baskets he'd been given by Modoc and Shoshone people he'd come to know, non-city casual clothing that he'd wear around the ranch and other things that he'd kept at home.

Well, this was home now, and once he began unpacking things that said he was home, it began to feel like home. That was actually a very good feeling, to be in this group of rooms that used to feel more like temporary housing, but now felt like home.

He wondered how he'd feel when he visited back at the ranch. "Visited." That's how he'd feel. This really was home now.

It took until mid-morning, but he finally washed his mind of the serious thoughts with a deep sigh and went to his favorite place to get a good cup of coffee. In a sort of reverie he went in, took a seat and accepted a cup from his favorite waitress. A beautiful woman only a few years younger than he was. A widow, she told him once. No children. Margaret, her name was. She preferred Maggie.

"Another, Mr. Barkley?" she asked after he had finished his first rather quickly.

"Yes, Maggie," he said, smiling. "I think so."

She poured again, with a lovely smile.

She would be a wonderful woman to fall in love with, Jarrod thought. Another time.

She went off. He wanted to go after her, but he didn't.

He finished his coffee, left enough money to pay for it and for a tip, and left.

XXXXX

Jarrod spent the rest of the day getting settled into his office. He unpacked boxes and reviewed correspondence until his eyes were miserable from the dust and the reading. There were two cases he had to pay attention to right away, so he had his secretary contact the clients by messenger to arrange meetings with them at the end of the week. The others he dictated letters on, and on one case he put together a filing with the court.

Then, at the end of the day, his secretary Angie brought in a telegram – the response to the wire he'd sent the evening before.

It was brief and to the point. _In San Francisco – stop – your place eight pm tonight - stop._

Jarrod figured he would never get any faster service than that. He pocketed the telegram and looked at his watch. It was nearly six. That gave him enough time to stop at the café for dinner and get home.

He was at Maggie's table again in less than half an hour. She had that great smile for him. "Got good meatloaf and mashed potatoes tonight, Mr. Barkley," she said.

"Sold," he said, "and some coffee."

"Vegetables?"

"Surprise me with what's good tonight."

She brought him coffee in less than a minute and his dinner within three minutes more. "We've still got a slice of apple pie left, too," Maggie said as she put his plate down in front of him.

"Save it for me," Jarrod said, considering adding salt to the meatloaf but then changing his mind. "I'm a hungry man tonight."

"You got it," she said.

Smiling, Jarrod watched her leave. He liked her – a lot.

XXXXXXXX

Jarrod was home by 7:45. He lit the lamps, took off his jacket, unbuttoned his vest and loosened his tie. Flopping into the chair by the fireplace with a scotch, he reminded himself again to get his housekeeper back and then gave himself some long minutes with no thoughts at all, just the taste of his favorite scotch and the comfort of his favorite chair.

Until the clock in the dining room chimed eight times, and only a minute or so later, a knock came on the front door.

Weary, Jarrod got up and went to the door. He opened it. The man standing there had a quiet smile. Jarrod nodded to him and said, "Come on in, Agent Macklin."

The face from two years past came in as Jarrod closed the door. "It was lucky you caught me while I was in San Francisco," Macklin said. "I'm taking a bit of a holiday before I have to go back to Washington."

"Well, I'm about to ask you to give up your holiday for me," Jarrod said, ushering him into the living room. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"You're having scotch?"

"Yes, would you like one?"

"Yes, thank you."

Macklin sat down on the sofa, and Jarrod brought him a glass of scotch. He tasted it and gave a happy "Hmm…"

Jarrod sat down in his chair again. "Thanks for coming."

Macklin nodded. "When someone I owe a favor calls it in, I answer fast. I don't take things like that for granted."

"I'll get to the point," Jarrod said. "Over the past few years, both of my brothers and I have been targets of contract killers. I've had Pinkerton on it, and we've done some investigating ourselves, but we've only gotten so far before we hit brick walls, past and present."

"What do you have?"

"A name, Agatha Cromwell, which she didn't begin using until 1872. She married, husband died in 1876, drowned at the waterfront here. His name was Alexander Carpenter. They were married from June 1873 to June 1876. She went back to Cromwell until 1877. Then she disappeared as Cromwell and hasn't resurfaced as anyone else."

"Gone?" Macklin said.

"Gone. Liquidated the assets her husband left her when he died. Must have changed her name again lately. Pinkerton can't find any assets they can trace to her, can't find any name she might be using now, can't find a photo of any kind. She was somebody else before October 1872 and she's somebody else now."

"And that's all you have?"

"That's it, except that she hired a contract killer named Melanie Palmer two years ago to kill Nick. We caught her before she could do the job. She's been in Quentin ever since."

"Life?"

"Until we got her sentence commuted to 25 years for giving us Agatha Cromwell's name."

"You think there's any chance this Melanie Palmer just lied to you?"

Jarrod sighed. "I don't know. I don't think so – I can have that commutation reversed if we catch her in a lie, so I don't think she had any reason to lie and every reason to tell the truth."

"Well, let's just assume she told you the truth then."

"I need to find this Agatha Cromwell. As far as I know, my family hasn't had any dealings with her, but since I don't know what name she used prior to 1872, I can't be sure. I need to you pull some strings and get to some information Pinkerton couldn't reach. I have to put this woman out of business so my family can breathe again."

Macklin nodded. "I can look a little deeper than Pinkerton could. How is your family, otherwise?"

"Fine," Jarrod said, "although I should mention that I don't live at the ranch in Stockton anymore. I'm here, full time."

Macklin's eyes darkened. "I hope I don't have anything to do with that."

"To be honest," Jarrod said, "a little. You cost me a bit of trust with that Alderson mess."

"I know, and I regret it more than you know, but Alderson is in prison, where he belongs, and we couldn't have put him there without you."

Jarrod nodded. "I don't regret helping you. Now I really need you to help me."

Macklin put his empty glass down on the coffee table and got up. "I'll do my best and touch base with you every evening, here, sooner if I get anything. I think it's best we not be seen together in public. Look for me at seven tomorrow."

Jarrod stood and offered his hand, which Macklin took. "I hope you can help me put this to rest. My family's safety is the most important thing in my life right now."

Macklin nodded. "I understand. Believe it or not, I have a family, too – wife and two children back in Washington and my parents in Maryland. I don't get to be with them as much as I would like, but their safety is paramount to me, too."

Jarrod walked him to the door. "Thanks for your help, John."

Macklin nodded as he went out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jarrod."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day was as ordinary a day as any other day at the office. Jarrod met with one of the clients he was concerned about and was able to put those concerns at rest with the promise to draw up certain legal documents. It was good to see the client with a smile on his face as he left. That was what made Jarrod happy being a lawyer – putting other people at ease.

He got up from his desk, straightened his jacket and tie, and went to the outer office. "I'm going to the club for some lunch, Angie," he said to his secretary. "Take some time for yourself, all right?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "When can I expect you back?"

"About two," Jarrod said on his way out the door.

At the club, Jarrod ran into an old friend he hadn't seen in years, an older man who had been a kind of a mentor to him. "David Masters!" Jarrod said, extending a hand.

"Well, Jarrod Barkley!" the older man said. "Sit down here. Sit down with me."

Jarrod sat. "You're looking pretty terrific for a retired attorney."

"And you look like hell!" Masters said.

Jarrod laughed. "Working too hard. You know how it is."

"No, I KNEW how it WAS! Retirement agrees with me, Jarrod. You should consider it."

"I'm way too young to retire yet," Jarrod said. "Still have bills to pay."

"Oh, come on. You could settle into just doing your family's work and otherwise punching cows and you'd be just fine. How is that family of yours?"

"Not bad, David, not bad. But I guess you haven't heard. I've moved to San Francisco permanently."

"What? Not living at the ranch anymore? Are you insane?"

Jarrod laughed again and ordered some coffee and a roast beef sandwich from the waiter who came by. "No, not insane, just had to let some priorities change."

"Well, if your mother is ready for a change, too….."

"Your wife might have some objections to that."

"I don't know. She might be ready to get rid of me. Being retired, she says I'm underfoot too much."

"How is Grace?"

"She's well. Age is catching up with both of us, though, I'm afraid."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"Not yet. Let me give you some advice. As bad as you look right now, you'd better be careful before something serious comes after you."

Jarrod gave it a smile. "I'll bear that in mind."

The coffee and sandwich came fast, and Jarrod ate while enjoying idle chitchat with his old friend. Jarrod did not discuss with him either the problems the family was having with hired killers or any other problems nagging him. He kept the conversation light, talking about the travels David and his wife had made since he and Jarrod last spoke, and the children and grandchildren. The conversation lifted Jarrod's spirits and by the time they parted company, Masters said, "You know, you already look better than you did when you walked in here."

Jarrod said, "Guess I just needed to eat and enjoy your fine company."

As he spoke, the waiter brought Jarrod his tab and also an envelope, saying, "A messenger just brought this note by, Mr. Barkley."

"Thank you, Steven," Jarrod said, sighed his tab, and slipped the note open with the letter opener provided. He read the note, and sat up straighter. "I'm afraid I have to run, David," he said, getting up.

"Nothing serious, I hope," Masters said.

"No, actually, maybe something good. Give my love to Grace."

XXXXXXXX

"Damned inconvenient of Jarrod to up and leave us," Nick grumbled as he saddled his horse. "I gotta run into town to see Markham every time I need something. Takes me away from the ranch too blasted often."

Heath saddled up next to him, but he had a different destination. "I told you I'd help with that. I could go in if you'd rather not."

"No, I'll go." Then he paused. "How do you think we can get Jarrod to come back?"

Heath chuckled. "He's been gone all of three days. Let things settle down and you'll be fine. He's made his decision and he has every right to move on if he wants to."

"I should have asked him more before he left. About that Agatha Cromwell business."

"He said he'd still try to find her."

"I hope he is. I hope he's talking to his Pinkerton man about her. I don't like the idea that she's still out there hiring whatever killer she wants. I better wire him about it while I'm in town."

"You're gonna run up some big telegraph bills, aren't you?"

"Well, he's not here for me to talk to. Makes it damned inconvenient."

"So you said," Heath said and mounted up. "You can always talk to me, you know."

Nick mounted up beside him. "You don't have a law degree."

"No, but I know life pretty well. And you're just insecure because you don't have Big Brother to fall back on anymore."

"No," Nick said seriously. "I just miss him."

They parted company, Nick heading to town and Heath heading out to where he had a crew working on fence repair.

From the house, Victoria watched them go. She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but coincidentally she was thinking along the same lines. It was very inconvenient in terms of the family work for Jarrod to be gone, and it was inconvenient for them not to have his personal counsel available to them every day. They all just missed him.

But it had only been three days. It would settle down and in a week or so they would have new patterns of life and everything would work out. That was one advantage of growing older – you could see how you always managed to adjust to major changes.

XXXXXXXX

Jarrod hurried to his home and was only inside a minute or so before the knock at the door came. Jarrod quickly let Macklin in.

"That was fast," Jarrod said.

"There's a reason for that," Macklin said. He did not come into the living area of the house. "Agatha Cromwell is the subject of an ongoing Treasury Department investigation."

Jarrod straightened up at that. "Why?"

Macklin shook his head. "I can't discuss it, but I've passed on the information you gave me about what she's done to your family, and that's part of the investigation now, too."

"Who can I talk to about it?"

Macklin gave him a business card. The name on it was Leo Fiore. "This is the agent in charge of the investigation. He's good. But he'll be limited as to what he can tell you."

"Does Fiore know where Agatha Cromwell is?"

"Yes, and she's under surveillance. Has been since she liquidated."

"What name is she using now?"

"You'll have to talk to Fiore about that."

"What about ties to my family? Why would she be targeting my family?"

"I don't know, but like I said, it's part of the investigation now. I gave Fiore your contact information. He'll want to talk to you as much as you want to talk to him, so I expect he'll contact you soon. Trust me on this, Jarrod. Fiore will put her out of business pretty soon, and you'll get to the bottom of this."

"You heading back to Washington?"

"Soon as Fiore lets me know he's talked to you. I'll get in touch with you if I need to, but expect to be talking to Fiore from now on. And make sure you talk only to Fiore, not to anybody else claiming to be from the department unless Fiore introduces you to him personally."

"Fraud problems?"

"Possibly. That's all I can say. Expect Fiore to contact you tonight or tomorrow."

"What does he look like? How will I know it's him?"

Macklin smiled. "You'll know him. He's dark, only about five foot five, very thin, mid-twenties. Looks like he's twelve years old but he has a thin moustache. Smart as a whip. He's a good man to have on this, Jarrod. He'll help you more than anybody else could."

Jarrod nodded. "Thanks for your help, John. Have a safe trip home."

Macklin handed Jarrod another business card. "Wire me here if you need me. I haven't done enough on this to pay you back, so as far as I'm concerned, I still owe you."

Jarrod took the card, nodding. He put both cards into his vest pocket, intending to keep them both on his person at all times. He shook Macklin's hand, and they parted company, until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jarrod was back to his office by two, as promised, although he had to rush to do it and came in out of breath. Angie was there, and she chuckled a little at him.

"Had to run all the way here?" she asked.

"Just about," Jarrod said. "Do I have any appointments this afternoon?"

"Your calendar's clean."

"Good, I have a lot of paperwork to do. Don't disturb me unless it's vital, okay?"

"All right. Do you want any coffee?"

"In about an hour," Jarrod said and disappeared into his office.

He submerged himself in the paperwork he had to do for his regular clients, but his mind kept wandering back to Agatha Cromwell and the possibility that he might know much, much more about her very soon. The possibility was exciting, more exciting than anything that he'd dealt with in ages.

And he relished the possibility that this might be one secret he could share with his family before too long, because it would be over, and whoever she was, she would be done.

XXXXXXX

"You've been awful quiet, Mother," Heath said. They had all gathered in the library for drinks before dinner, and he and his brother had been talking away, but Victoria's mind had wandered off without them.

"Yeah, is something wrong?" Nick asked.

"No," she said and wondered what to say. "Just thinking about your brother, if he's all right."

"He goes to San Francisco all the time," Heath said. "I don't think you have any reason to worry about him."

"Unless you're like me and just annoyed," Nick said.

"Annoyed?" Victoria said.

"That he's left me having to run to Markham in town all the time."

Victoria smiled. "You'll get used to that, Nick."

"When are we expecting Audra back home?" Heath asked, thinking that having her daughter come back would help ease his mother's mind about Jarrod.

"Not for a while yet," Victoria said. "If she comes back at all. She might be like Eugene and find she's settling in somewhere far away."

Nick and Heath looked at each other. That was it – her children leaving her one by one. First Eugene staying back east, then Audra off touring the world, now Jarrod – Pappy, the center of this family's gravity – gone to San Francisco for good.

Nick sat down next to her on the sofa and put his hand on hers. "I'm afraid you're gonna be stuck with Heath and me forever, Mother. We're anchored to the ranch, so as long as you're here, you'll have us."

Heath said, "You never know, Mother. You may find yourself wanting something else."

"Oh, no, no," Victoria said with perfect certainty. "This is my home, the one I built with your father. He's always in my heart, but as long as I'm here, he's always around me, too." She looked up at his portrait over the fireplace. "I wish you had known him, Heath. I wish that with all my heart."

Heath stared at the floor. "Sometimes I wish I had known him, too."

"Once I suggested you read his journals," Victoria said. "You declined. But I wish you would reconsider now. It would mean a lot to me if you came to know him at least a little."

Heath shifted uncomfortably, but he understood what she was saying. She had offered those journals to him when he first came here, but he wasn't ready then. He still felt he was among strangers then, but now, when he looked at his mother and his brother, he felt such deep love, such deep commitment. Everything had changed over the years he'd been here.

Heath smiled. "All right. I will read them, starting tonight."

Victoria beamed. "I'll get a few of them together after dinner."

Heath laughed. "Don't go breaking your back carrying books. I'm not a fast reader."

"You know, I wouldn't mind reading some of them myself," Nick said.

Victoria had never read those journals herself. When her husband was alive, he didn't want her to read them. After he was gone, she couldn't bear to read them. Victoria now suddenly realized she had never offered them to Nick, or even to Eugene or Audra or Jarrod. What a terrible oversight. She smiled. "Then I'll have a few for you, too," she said, "and I may just have a look at them myself. With Jarrod leaving – I feel a real need to have your father around again."

They understood. Heath raised his glass. "Then let's drink a real toast – to Tom Barkley, and to learning more about him in the next few weeks."

It was the first toast Heath had made to Tom Barkley since that sarcastic toast he had made the first night he was here, so long ago – a toast Victoria had overheard even though she wasn't meant to. This toast meant so much to Victoria she teared up. They all drank to the man whose portrait hung over the fireplace, and then Victoria stood up and gave her newest son a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Heath," she said quietly.

Heath smiled his lopsided smile. "I love you too, Mother."

XXXXXXXX

At just that moment, Jarrod was answering the knock at his front door, and he found there the man who had to be Leo Fiore. Macklin was right – the man looked like a twelve-year-old with a moustache, but there was deep intelligence in his dark brown eyes. Jarrod let him in right away and closed the door.

"Mr. Barkley, it's good to meet you," Fiore said.

"Come, sit down," Jarrod said, inviting him into the living room. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you," Fiore said, but did come in and sit down on the sofa.

Jarrod sat down in his armchair. "I hope you can help me with this Agatha Cromwell business."

"I think we can help each other," Fiore said, and then dropped the bombshell. "We do know what name she's going by now, but since John Macklin spoke to me this morning, it's finally made sense for us."

"Oh?" Jarrod said. "What name is she going by?"

Fiore smiled a little and said, "Agatha Barkley."

Jarrod's face immediately went into a frown, and he sat up in his chair. "You're not serious."

"I am," Fiore said. "We tracked her to a small bank account under that name."

"Are you sure it's her?"

"Oh, yes, we're sure. She liquidated everything under Cromwell, and if she's reinvested, we haven't found it yet except for this small bank account. There's an address associated with it, and we've had her under surveillance."

"You've seen her?"

"Yes, we're watching her all the time. She may or may not know it, it's hard to tell."

"Where does she live?"

"I can't tell you that. It's pivotal to our investigation."

"Can you tell me why you're investigating her?"

"Only in vague terms. There's some fraud involved with how she's gotten her money."

Jarrod took a shot. "Treasury Department – I assume there's a counterfeiting question."

"There is. That's about all I can say."

"I'm sure she's behind the contract killings attempted on me and my brothers, but I can't figure out why she wants us dead. I can't find any connection at all between her and my family."

"We're going to work on that. We'll find it."

"If I could get a look at her, it might help."

Fiore reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit. "I thought you might say that." He took out a photograph and handed it to Jarrod.

Jarrod was almost shaking when he took it and looked closely at it, but then he was disappointed. "I've never seen this woman before," he said, memorizing the face and and then handing the photo back.

Fiore took out another photo and gave it to Jarrod, repocketing the photo of Agatha Cromwell. "Have a look at this one."

It was the picture of a man, a carte de visite, many years old. Jarrod looked closely. "Is this Alexander Carpenter?" he asked.

"It is," Fiore said.

Jarrod looked very closely for a long time and memorized it. "I don't know this man, either." He gave the card back to Fiore.

"Maybe someone else in your family does."

Jarrod sat back and closed his eyes, thinking. Maybe his mother would know. "Is there any way I can keep these photos and show them to my family?"

"I'll have copies made for you," Fiore said. "I can have them for you tomorrow evening, but understand me, Mr. Barkley, I don't want you going after this woman. I don't want her seeing you. It will jeopardize our investigation, and I can't have that. The more you spread these photos around, the greater than chance someone will tip her off, accidentally or intentionally."

Jarrod nodded. "I understand. I'll share these photos with my family only, and I won't give them any more information."

Fiore nodded. "Try just your mother first. That would help. I understand that one of the contact killers did kill one of the men who worked for you."

Jarrod nodded. "A boy really. Joey Cabot."

Fiore nodded. "My concern is the counterfeiting, but if I can get her on this young man's murder and her attempts on your life and your brothers', I certainly will, and I will definitely try."

Jarrod nodded again. "I'd be grateful til the day I die."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Heath came down to breakfast looking tired in the eyes but also somewhat anxious. His mother and brother were right behind him and, after exchanging "good morning"s, they sat down to share the blessing and to eat.

"I take it you were reading last night," Nick said. "Something troubling?"

"Sort of," Heath said. "Thank you for letting me read these, Mother. It's been – an eye opener for sure, and in more ways than one."

"Are they helping you?" Victoria asked. "Do you think you know your father any better?"

"Oh, I got a long way to go on that, but there's something else. It was real late and i was reading the one for 1864," Heath said. "There was something that really – got to me, and something I think we need to wire Jarrod about."

"What's that?" Victoria asked.

"June entry," Heath said. "Early June. He says he had a visit from a business associate here, while you were away for more than a month – man in his early 30s, someone he was just trying to seal a deal with."

Victoria's face went blank.

Heath noticed. "Do you remember him mentioning it?"

Victoria shook her head. "No. I was away seeing an old friend who was ill – dying. I lost her then and was pretty upset about it. I don't remember your father saying anything about anyone visiting here while I was gone."

Heath went on. "Man came with his son, Adam, boy about 12 years old. While he and Father were working one day during that visit, Adam went exploring around the property. Nobody realized he'd found his way out to that well out back – that open well. Boy fell in and drowned. Father was pretty broken up."

Victoria looked frozen. "I suppose he didn't mention it because I was so upset about my friend. I remember that entire summer seeming like a fog. Your father was very solicitous and wasn't mentioning anything about business to me at the time."

Heath said, "This was tough to read. I always thought about Tom Barkley as an empire builder, a tough man – this made me see him in a different light. But Mother, the man's name was Alexander Carpenter."

"Alexander Carpenter?!" Nick blurted out. "Wasn't that the name of the man Jarrod said Agatha Cromwell was married to?"

Heath nodded. "That's the name. That's got to be the link we've been looking for."

Victoria said, "We have to wire Jarrod as soon as possible."

Nick started eating more quickly. "I'll head into town as soon as I finish."

Victoria didn't want to eat any more at all. She was stunned. Such a horrible thing to have happen at home here and Tom hadn't even mentioned it, ever. To spare her in her own grief, she was sure, but, dear God, to live with that memory for the rest of his life and never share it –

Nick reached for her hand, reading her mind. Her husband had kept that incident secret from her until the day he died. She had to be shaken badly.

But Victoria just squeezed Nick's hand. Right now, there was something more important than her feelings about her husband's secret. She nodded to Nick. Jarrod was the one who had to know about this now.

XXXXXX

Jarrod was in his office working feverishly on a brief for the appeals court when the wire came in. His secretary brought it in and, seeing it was from Nick, he read it right away.

And stood up behind his desk. Here it was, the link they had been looking for – the reason for Carpenter's suicide and for Agatha's hatred. Jarrod considered contacting Fiore right away, but he didn't want to do that through the office. Fiore was supposed to come to his home in the evening. Jarrod decided to let this news wait until then, but all day long he was energized, excited, even a bit relieved.

Fiore brought copies of the photographs of Agatha Cromwell and Alexander Carpenter to Jarrod's home that same evening. As soon as he handed them to Jarrod, Jarrod looked at them and turned the photo of Carpenter so Fiore would see it. "This is it," Jarrod said. "This is what we've been looking for."

He explained Nick's message. Fiore sat back in the sofa, relief visible on his mostly unreadable face. "Excellent," he said. "But I wish we had a witness to connect them. I wish someone had seen your father and Carpenter together."

Jarrod nodded. "I'll go to Stockton and talk to some of the older hands at the ranch. May I show them these photos?"

Fiore looked a little uncertain. "The more people who see these, the greater the chance something will slip and the wrong person will hear it."

"If we can get Agatha arrested for Joey Cabot's killing, won't that give you some leverage for your case?"

"Are you willing to let her walk on a murder charge just so I can have her on a counterfeiting charge?"

"No, of course not, but as soon as you arrest her, the house will start to fall."

Fiore shook his head. "We're not that close. Her partners will just set up shop somewhere else without her."

Jarrod was so anxious to get the woman arrested that in his mind he was racing through every way he could to get it done. He ended up with, "What can I do to help your counterfeiting investigation?"

Fiore shook his head again. "Nothing I can think of right now. She knows you. If you approach her in any way, her partners will take off. No, we need more time to wrap up her whole operation."

Jarrod sighed. He wanted to do something, anything. "Do you have any serious problem with me going to the ranch and showing Carpenter's photograph?"

Fiore considered it again, and finally shook his head. "No. Do it. And get depositions taken in Stockton if you can. We can have them on file and be ready to use them."

Jarrod nodded, and the next day, he cleared his calendar and took the train to Stockton. He did not wire ahead that he was coming. He rented a mount when he got to Stockton and rode straight out to the ranch.

As he walked in the door of the house, he met his mother, arranging flowers in the foyer. She looked startled, then wary and then happy to see him. "Jarrod! I wasn't expecting you!"

"Hello, Mother," Jarrod said and took her in his arms. "How are you?"

"Well, I'm fine, but I hardly expected you back so soon."

They walked together to the settee in the living room. "I had to come back as soon as I got Nick's wire."

Victoria suddenly looked both excited and uneasy. "It's the answer, isn't it? Carpenter is the answer."

Jarrod nodded. "I think so, but I need to find somebody who saw him here and knows about the incident Nick wrote me about."

"I wasn't here," Victoria said.

The smallness of her voice was alarming. "What is it, Mother? What's bothering you about this?"

Victoria thought. "I suppose just the fact that your father never told me about it. I had been away with an old friend who was dying, and I was with her when she passed. When I came home, I was very grief-stricken. I assume he just wanted to spare my feelings, but - "

Something else was in her eyes now. "But what?" Jarrod asked. "Say it."

She did say it. "Another secret. Not yours, but secrets, Jarrod. So many secrets."

Jarrod put his arms around her. "Mother, Father had only your feelings in mind when he kept this secret. Forgive him for it, even if you can't forgive me mine."

Now she looked hurt. "Jarrod, you know I forgive you -"

"No," Jarrod said quickly, but smiling. "I don't think you do, not completely, but that's not important right now. Right now I need to find someone who saw Carpenter here and was here when his son was killed. I need to get depositions taken and I need to get back to San Francisco with them."

"All right," she said. "Try Duke McCall first. He was here, and he'll know who else was."

Jarrod kissed her. "I'll be back for dinner," he said before he went back out the door.

That made Victoria smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was hot, awfully hot for the season, and the sweat was running down Nick's face. He could feel it making his hat stick to his head, so he pulled his hat off and took his bandana from around his neck to wipe is hair and forehead with. It almost seemed like the sweat reappeared as soon as he wiped it off. "I'm gonna move to Montana," he said.

Heath chuckled. "Montana?"

"Yeah, sell this place and buy a ranch in Montana and start all over again where it doesn't get this hot."

"You're forgetting about Montana winters, not to mention Mother."

"I know, I know," Nick said. "I just HATE this weather."

Someone came riding from a distance, slowing down as he neared the herd so as not to spook it. They couldn't tell who it was until he was practically there.

"Hey, it's Jarrod," Heath grinned.

Nick put his hat back on and tied his bandana back around his neck, as his older brother came up to them. "Well, couldn't stay away, could you?" Nick asked.

"Not after your wire," Jarrod said. "I need to talk to McCall. Is he here?"

Nick and Heath started spanning the herd and the men tending it. Heath saw McCall first and pointed. "Over there."

"What do you need?" Nick asked.

"A witness," Jarrod said and rode off toward McCall.

Nick and Heath took off after him and arrived beside him as he was saying to McCall, " – Peterson, he was here in 1864 while Nick and I were off in the army."

McCall nodded sadly. "I remember."

"Tell me what you remember."

McCall sighed. "His son, eleven or twelve years old, fell in the well behind the house and drowned. Terrible thing. Your father was devastated."

"Will you testify to that?" Jarrod asked. "I'll arrange for a deposition tomorrow if I can. I just need you to testify to that incident."

"Sure," McCall said.

"Who else was here?"

"Oh – Riley, Pitt, Sheldon. That's about it."

"I'll need them, too. Heath, you still have father's journal, don't you?"

"Sure," Heath said.

"Hold on tight to it," Jarrod said. "We might end up needing it, too. I'll talk to you all later."

With that, Jarrod rode off to town to arrange for the depositions. Nick and Heath looked after him. "Well," Nick said, "I think Big Brother's hit the mother lode on this."

"Yeah," Heath said. "Like a hound with his nose to the ground. He ain't gonna give up until he trees that fox."

XXXXXXX

Jarrod came back to the house after he arranged for the depositions. It took several hours, and by the time he came in the door, his mother and brothers were already having drinks before dinner. Jarrod had a big grin on his face as he tossed his hat onto the table inside the door and came into the living room.

"All set," he said. "I'll need McCall, Riley, Pitt and Sheldon to come to town with me in the morning and I'll take those depositions with me to San Francisco tomorrow. Where's my scotch?"

It wasn't on the refreshment table anymore.

"Oh, I – finished off that last bottle and haven't refilled the carafe," Nick said. "Sorry."

Jarrod shrugged. He couldn't complain since he didn't live here anymore. He poured himself a little whiskey. "We're going to get her," he said, joining his family near the fireplace. "It might take a bit – they're after her for some other things – but she's going down. Oh, by the way, Mother, I picked up a wire for you while I was in town."

Jarrod handed it to Victoria, who opened it and read it. She broke into a smile. "It's from Audra. She plans to be back from Washington by the end of next week."

"Well, hallelujah," Heath said, only half mocking. "The Prodigal Daughter is coming home."

"Jarrod, can you be here when she gets home?" Victoria asked. "We need a little celebration."

"I'll see what I can do," Jarrod said. Then he suddenly made a face. His chest burned. "This whiskey doesn't sit well with me," he said.

"I can go fetch some of your scotch," Nick said.

"No, nevermind," Jarrod said, downed the last of the whiskey and put the glass down. "It'll pass."

Victoria looked a bit concerned, but Jarrod smiled. Heath asked, "What else are they after Agatha Cromwell for?"

"I can't really talk about it," Jarrod said. "I only know roughly what it is, and I've been sworn to secrecy."

That word again. Jarrod didn't realize he'd used it until he had. His mother looked suspicious again.

"It's nothing that should put any of us in danger," Jarrod said quickly. "It doesn't concern us at all."

Victoria sighed. "Let's hope not."

She sounded doubtful, but she thought she had reason to be. The woman had hired people to kill each of her sons, and it was only by some skill and a lot of luck that she hadn't succeeded. Jarrod smiled and kissed his mother's cheek. "It'll be over soon, Mother. I promise you that."

XXXXXXX

The next morning, Jarrod took the depositions of the men he'd arranged for. They were brief, and after the transcriptions were finished, Jarrod went straight home to San Francisco. He arrived in town later than he'd hoped, but he wasn't expecting Fiore to come to his house until ten o'clock. He took the time to stop by the café for dinner before heading home.

Maggie and her smile were there waiting for him. "Well, Counselor. Haven't see you in a few days."

"They were a busy few days," Jarrod said and sat down where Maggie directed him. "What's good tonight, Maggie?"

"Your favorite, chicken and dumplings," Maggie said.

"Ah, yes," Jarrod said. "Bring it over."

"And some coffee?"

"And some coffee," Jarrod agreed.

Maggie brought the coffee right over. "Had some excitement in town last night," she said as she poured.

"Really?" Jarrod asked. "More exciting than usual?"

"According to the morning paper – the federals broke up a counterfeiting ring."

Jarrod nearly did a double take. "What?"

"I'll bring you the paper," Maggie said.

She fetched it and gave it to him. He opened it anxiously and found the story, then searched urgently for names. Several men's names he didn't know. Could it have been a different counterfeiting ring?

"Well," Jarrod said as Maggie brought his dinner. "I'm pretty sure my money is good. Got it in Stockton."

Maggie said, "Well, then, I won't go checking it."

Jarrod ate with his right hand while he held the paper with his left, rereading the story more carefully. No woman's name was mentioned at all, and he was disappointed. Well, he thought then. Fiore will fill him in shortly.

He finished his dinner and stood up, putting money on the table to cover the bill and tip.

"No dessert tonight, Mr. Barkley?" Maggie asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "Not tonight, Maggie. Chicken and dumplings are very filling." Then he thought of something. "Maggie, don't you ever take a day off? Seems to me you're here every day."

Maggie chuckled. "Off on Sundays. I go to church and then pretty much sleep the day away. This job has me going all the time. Sunday is truly a day of rest for me."

"Not every Sunday, I hope," Jarrod said.

"Well, now and then I enjoy a little diversion other than sleep."

Jarrod smiled. "How about this Sunday afternoon? Up for some afternoon theatre and an early dinner?"

Maggie looked surprised, but pleased. "Yes. Yes, I am up for that."

Jarrod winked. "I'll meet you right out front here at one-thirty, all right?"

"All right," she said.

Jarrod went out with a wry grin on his face. He had actually asked a woman out, for the first time in long time. For the first time since Beth, he realized. But he also realized that he did not feel awkward about that.

Maybe moving to San Francisco for good was liberating, he thought. Maybe it was a good idea in a lot of ways.

The evening air was lovely for this time of year. He took a deep breath and enjoyed it, a lot.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Fiore arrived at Jarrod's home as expected, and Jarrod let him in. It took only as long as to close the door before Jarrod asked, "The article in the morning paper – is it Agatha Cromwell's ring you've broken up?"

Fiore broke into a big smile. "It is."

"How?" Jarrod asked, his smile nearly as big.

"Silly, actually, but that's what happens sometimes," Fiore said. "One of her engravers got drunk in a card game and beat up a man he didn't know was a police officer, threatened him with a gun, too. The policeman was going to throw the 'informal' book at him hard, so he gave up his partners in exchange for a pass on the charges from the card game. He's got counterfeiting charges, but we've already struck a deal with him on those. His male partners were picked up last night. Agatha Cromwell was picked up this afternoon. Do you have depositions for me?"

Jarrod ushered Fiore into the living room, where he took the papers out of his briefcase and gave them over. "Four witnesses. Confront her with these and Melanie Palmer's identification, and you can have a good case against her."

Fiore took the papers. "Her actions against you and your family are State jurisdiction, but we won't let her up easy, though we might cut some kind of deal with her. Regardless, between our system and the State's, she's going to do a lot of jail time."

"I hope you can keep her in the federal system," Jarrod said. "I'd hate for her to get her hands on Melanie Palmer in Quentin."

"Understood. We'll do what we can. Do you want to see her?"

Jarrod raised an eyebrow. "You'd let me?"

"Yes, I would."

"When?"

"She'll be arraigned tomorrow at ten. Come by my office at nine, and I'll give you a few minutes with her."

Jarrod nodded. Not that he had much to say to her, but he wanted to see her. Or actually, he wanted her to see him.

"I'll be there," Jarrod said.

Jarrod showed Fiore out, and then he came in and flopped down in his favorite chair. He was really tired, and then suddenly his chest began to hurt. Maybe the chicken and dumplings, but maybe not. He began to feel very uncomfortable, so he reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket for some pills he kept handy – but there was nothing there.

 _Oh, great,_ he thought. _Looks like every silver lining has to have a cloud._

He consciously relaxed and breathed through it until the pain eased off. Then he just shook his head. The fates may not have been unkind to him this day, but they certainly were fickle.

XXXXXXX

The next morning at nine, Fiore showed Jarrod to a room used for questioning, and a moment later, he brought a woman in. She looked to be in her late 40s, wearing just a prison gray smock, handcuffed. She was not sad looking though, as Jarrod thought she might be. Instead, she looked at him and smiled. An ugly smile, but a smile.

"Well, Jarrod Barkley," she said. "This is a surprise."

"More so for me," Jarrod said. "I didn't expect you to be taken down so fast."

"Twist of fate," she said. "You've come to gloat?"

"No," Jarrod said. "Just to see who brought my family so much grief. Was it worth it?"

She just shrugged. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

Acting ignorant. Smart woman. Jarrod smiled. "You'll go to prison for a good long time."

"Perhaps," she said. "Truth be told, life hasn't been worth all that much to me – since my husband died, thanks to the Barkleys."

"He's why you came after us."

"Me? Come after you?"

"Because of Carpenter. Because of his son."

She smiled that ugly smile again. "I've learned a lot about you and your brothers over the years, and your mother and sister. Since Alex died – well, life changed. I've built my little network of people who know things, or who know people who know things. Even if I were inclined to come after any of you – to see that at least one of you paid for Alex's son, for Alex – well, we both know I don't have to do that. The Good Lord is taking care of that for me."

Jarrod's skin crawled. What was she saying?

She smiled even more, and she aimed a finger at the center of his chest. He grabbed her hand before she could touch him, and for a moment he seriously considered breaking her arm.

She knew. How did she know?

She gasped at the way he twisted her arm, but he stopped, and she went back to her ugly smile. "When a man is seen coming out of the office of Dr. Anthony Lumen, it's obvious why he went in there in the first place."

Jarrod found himself squeezing her arm now, almost twisting it again, but he stopped himself. Assaulting a prisoner would get him locked up himself. Instead he pushed her arm away. His eyes burned fire at her.

She didn't flinch. "I supposed I'll have to give up my network now, but it doesn't matter anymore. What I wanted will come to pass before too long, and I won't have to lift a finger to make it happen. Good-bye, Mr. Barkley. I hope you got what you wanted out of me."

She banged on the door, and the matron outside opened it. She left without looking back and seeing the increasing anger in his face – and the way he shut his eyes against it.

Jarrod left the building with only a cursory good-bye to Fiore, who saw the look on his face and said quickly, "She won't hurt you or your family or anyone else anymore, I promise you that."

Jarrod nodded to him and said, "I know. Thank you," and left.

Once outside on the street, he took time to get himself back together. So she knew. His deepest secret. It didn't matter. She was not in control of anything anymore, and it appeared she was ready to give up her idea of killing any of the Barkleys, simply because she did know what she knew.

A tightening in his chest made Jarrod stand and breathe deeply and evenly until it passed, and with it went the concern he had about Agatha Cromwell knowing what she knew. It just didn't matter now. It was even something good, if she really would leave his family alone now.

He kept telling himself that until he actually believed it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The next morning, after wiring his family that Agatha Cromwell had been arrested, Jarrod walked into the office of Dr. Anthony Lumen. He bid good morning to the doctor's secretary, who flashed him a beautiful smile. Amazing how many beautiful smiles there were in San Francisco. It made up for the ugly one from the day before.

Dr. Lumen soon came out of his back office. "Mr. Barkley! Good to see you again."

Jarrod stood up from his seat and took the offered hand. "Hello, Doctor."

"Come in, come in," Dr. Lumen said.

Soon they were in his examining room, a place Jarrod had seen one time before. It did not hold good memories for him, but he felt a sense of fate now. He had to be here, whether he liked it or not, whether Agatha Cromwell knew he was here or not.

"Sit down," the doctor said and pointed him to a chair.

Jarrod sat, loosening his tie.

"So, how's it been going?" the doctor asked.

"Not bad, actually," Jarrod said. "I've come to see you because I've lost my 'handy little devil' pills and need to ask you for some more."

Dr. Lumen chuckled. "I love that name you've given them. Lost them, huh?"

"Well, I haven't needed them, and I just moved to San Francisco permanently, so they probably just got lost in the move, fell out of my pocket somewhere. I've been here for days and didn't even notice until last night."

Dr. Lumen leaned back in his chair, looking a bit dissatisfied. "You're here permanently? You think that's a good idea?"

"It doesn't have that much to do with my health. It has to do with – well, let's just say my profession has put some additional strains on my family."

"How so?" the doctor asked quickly.

Jarrod sighed. "Lately some of the secrets I'm required to keep have come back to bite my family in the rear end," he said bluntly. "I can't do that to them anymore. Makes life terrifying, for me as well as for them. I couldn't put them at risk anymore because of my job, and I suspect you wouldn't like the stress it's put on me. And I have some things I need to do here in San Francisco while I still have the energy."

"Well, you don't need the stress, that's for sure," Dr. Lumen said, "but going through your illness alone – that's not a good idea, either."

Jarrod gave a small smile. "Damned if I do and damned if I don't. I chose not to damn my family. I'll be all right."

"Let me have a listen to you."

Jarrod opened his shirt, and Dr. Lumen took a stethoscope out of his desk drawer. He came around the corner of his desk, bent in front of Jarrod, and listened to his heartbeat.

Jarrod could hear the beat as well. It sounded all right to him.

The doctor stood. "Well, not any different from the last time I listened. You say you haven't needed the nitroglycerin pills for a while?"

"No," Jarrod said, as Dr. Lumen took hold of his hands and examined each of them carefully.

Dr. Lumen said, "Take your boots and socks off, please."

Jarrod did as he was told, beginning to feel a bit undressed. Dr. Lumen looked at the tops of his feet, pressing his thumb against each one, watching the indentations disappear.

"Not too bad," Dr. Lumen said. "You've eased off the salt, I take it."

Jarrod nodded, putting his socks and boots back on, then rebuttoning his shirt and retying his tie. "It's taken a couple pounds off me."

"I'm not surprised. That's probably one of the reasons you haven't needed the nitroglycerin pills, or have you just been tolerating the pain?"

"It just means the pain hasn't been that bothersome."

Dr. Lumen smiled. "Just like a lawyer to evade the question. Any pain at all?"

Jarrod smiled, caught. "A little now and then, less than there was."

Dr. Lumen nodded. "You haven't told your family about your illness, have you?"

"No. And I'm not going to, at least not for now."

Dr. Lumen took a deep breath. "That's your choice, but if you're living alone, you could find yourself in trouble with no help available."

"According to our last discussion, if I get into serious trouble, there's no help for me anyway."

"Jarrod – you've asked me to be honest with you, and I always have been. The heart failure you have is likely to incapacitate you for some time before it proves fatal. You're going to need someone to care for you, for months or even longer. And you're probably cutting your life even shorter than it is just keeping this to yourself. Men do better with something like this if they have people who love them around. And how do you think your family is going to take it when they get the telegram that you've been found – "

Jarrod held his hand up. "All right, all right. I understand everything that could happen."

"WILL happen, Jarrod, maybe not next week or even next year, but it WILL happen."

"All right. WILL happen, sometime in the future and maybe the far future. I'm not willing to put my family through either the stresses of my profession OR the stresses of my disease, much less the both of them. I know what I'm doing, Doctor. I'm resigned to it. It's for the best."

"All right. It's your decision." Dr. Lumen reached into his desk again and pulled out a very small bottle of very small white pills. "Here you are. I hope you don't need them again for a long, long time."

Jarrod took the pills, put them in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, and stood up. "Thank you, doctor. I hope I don't, either."

They shook hands again, the doctor giving Jarrod one of those "you're making the wrong decision" looks, but Jarrod knew he wasn't wrong. On his way out, he accepted another smile from the doctor's secretary and paid her, and in a few minutes he was back on the streets of San Francisco.

He took a deep breath, and for a moment Agatha Cromwell's ugly smile flashed into his mind's eye, but he made it go away. She could not hurt anyone now. She was done, and he knew that over the next few days, he could make himself be done with her.

He took another deep breath and wished it were the fresh, clean air of the valley he grew up in. The big outdoors did a lot for his soul that the busy streets around him now didn't, and the presence of his family did even more. But he hadn't lied to Dr. Lumen. He did know what he was doing. He had made the right decision in moving here.

And he had made the right decision in keeping this biggest secret from his family.

No timetable, the doctor had said. Maybe one year, maybe five, maybe even longer. Heart disease seldom came with a deadline. Yes, it came with problems, but he had his handy little devils in his pocket again, and yes, it would get him in the end, but only if something else didn't get him first.

He smiled. Agatha Cromwell was not going to be that something else. She was safely out of the picture forever, even if she did know what she knew. Maybe she could dangle it over his head, but she couldn't hurt him with that knowledge, not really, and she couldn't hurt anyone else in his family, ever again. She didn't even want to anymore.

He threw all of that out of his head and thought about having a cup of coffee. He thought about Maggie, and he thought about the coming Sunday. He smiled even more.

 _Maybe every cloud does have a silver lining after all._

Epilogue

Victoria picked up the journal her husband kept during the last year of his life, 1870. It seemed so long ago, and yet it seemed like yesterday. With every day that went by, she felt him drift farther and farther away, and she felt like she knew him less and less.

With the discovery that Heath had made in his 1864 journal, Victoria found herself wondering how many other secrets he'd kept. Oh, she had gotten used to the biggest one – his affair with Heath's mother – but she often wondered how many other women there were, and whether they'd be remembered in his journals. And how would she be remembered there? Would he rant and rave as he did when they argued about something? Would he have made loving notes when their children were born or when Jarrod and Nick came back from the war?

Would she still love him if she read these journals? Would she still believe that he had loved her?

Victoria closed her eyes, debated in anguish. She put the book down, looked at it, then picked it up again and opened it.

She read entry after entry and was astonished at how mundane they were. No great secrets, no big revelations of his hidden feelings. No words about any other women, and few about Victoria herself. Some entries made her smile – things about how much he was looking forward to a birthday gift he intended to give her, or how happy he was that Nick had broken a certain stallion without breaking his neck.

And then there began some curious lines in several of his final entries – lines about chest pains bothering him, about how he had trouble getting his boots over his swollen feet, entries about feeling out of breath.

He had never said a word, and she had never noticed. How could she have missed those kinds of symptoms? Why didn't he tell her?

Victoria put the journal down, trembling.

The End


End file.
